


I Found You

by AWriting



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Clint and Bucky shenanigans, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut, musical!Clint, slight AU, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWriting/pseuds/AWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky always knew Steve would catch up with him eventually. He just assumed it wouldn't be for quite a while. To his surprise, it's not even Steve who finds him first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing more WinterHawk because I freaking love Winterhawk and I'm procrastinating on finals stuff.  
> The updates for this story are going to be short, but I'm planning on updating once a day or every other day at least. I'm kind of just going to post whatever I've written by the end of the day.  
> Enjoy!

When Clint came to, he couldn't see anything. The fabric stretched across his eyes was dense and scratchy. His arms were shackled together and suspended over his head, pulled tight enough that his feet were just barely able to set fully on the ground. Well shit, Clint thought. He'd stepped in it this time. He tried to think back to what had happened. He remembered tracking the Winter Soldier--Barnes, he reminded himself--to London. Things went to shit when he followed him to a warehouse, presumably a Hydra holding if the Sold--no, not the Soldier. Barnes--was continuing his rampage across Europe. The men inside the warehouse had attacked Barnes and because Clint had a clear shot, he fired off a couple of arrows to assist the guy. Next thing he knows, Barnes is gone and the warehouse is on fire. Then he woke up here. God, he hoped Hydra hadn't gotten Barnes. Cap would never forgive him. 

He tested his legs, trying to lift them but they were tied to the ground so that he couldn't lift them more than a foot or so. Clint let his body relax and focused on his senses. There was nothing coming into his right ear. His aid must've gone out at some point. In his left ear he could just make out the dripping of water and the faint sound of mechanics whirring. Not much to go on. He took a deep breath through his nose. Mold and stone. Suddenly, a massive clattering noise started and the room began to shake. It got louder and louder until it reached a peak and started getting quieter again. The room stilled. Clint guessed he was underground. Near one of the tube lines. And near the river too. That would explain why it was so wet. 

"Who do you work for?" A gruff voice asked. 

Well, damn if there hadn't been someone in there with him the whole time. The guy knew how to be quiet. If the room hadn't been so quiet now that the train had passed, Clint might not have heard him even when he spoke. Even so, it took him a minute to figure out what the guy had asked. Clint was really missing that right hearing aid. 

"Well now that's a complicated question," Clint responded, ignoring how dry his mouth and throat were. "Not SHIELD anymore, apparently, but I sure as hell don't work for Tony. I guess you could say that in this particular instance, I'm working for Cap, but..."

"Cap?" The voice demanded. If the situation had been different, Clint would've said that the guy had a nice voice. Low and smooth without even trying to be. An American accent tinged with something else. "You work for Rogers?"

"I like 'with' better," Clint said. "Let's say I work 'with' Rogers."

The guy moved now towards Clint. He could hear the footsteps, but he got the impression that was because his kidnapper wanted to be heard. The mechanical whirring got closer as well and Clint knew a moment of worry before the cloth was pulled from his eyes. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light. Standing in front of him was a hobo. Not actually a hobo. It was Barnes, but he looked like a hobo. His hair was almost down to his shoulders and a thick beard covered most of his face. His clothes looked even more damaged up close than they had from afar. 

Mechanical whirring. Mechanical arm. Clint probably should've figured that one out. 

"How'd you find me?" Barnes asked with genuine curiosity coloring his voice.   
Clint shrugged as much as he could with his arms still suspended. "Maybe you're getting sloppy. Or maybe I'm just awesome."

Barnes sighed and released the chain that was holding Clint's arms up before releasing his legs as well. "If you're working with him, where is he?"

"If my last message from Natasha is correct, Steve and Sam are back in the States for a little break," Clint told him and rubbed at the raw skin of his wrists. He wondered how long he'd been trussed up like that. 

"Natasha," Barnes turned the name around in his mouth. "The Black Widow. She almost caught up to me in Kiev last month."

Clint laughed and stretched his back. "She was pretty pissed about that. She was so sure she had you and then poof. You were gone."

He thought he saw the corner of Barnes' mouth twitch up at that, but it was hard to be sure in the dim lighting. All at once, Barnes turned towards a small table with a impressive cache of weapons strewn across it. As he stowed a particularly nasty looking knife in a thigh holster, he said, "you should all stop following me."

"You're really crazy if you think Steve is ever going to stop, Barnes." Clint spotted his bow and arrows on the ground next to the table and grabbed them, following the other man out of the small room. 

"Get the hell out of here before I change my mind about letting you go," Barnes threw over his shoulder. 

"You're even crazier if you think I'm letting you out of my sight now that I've found you," Clint responded with a laugh though he was completely serious about this. "Cap'd kill me if I just let you walk away."

Barnes stopped walking and turned toward him. "Look, I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to."

A smirk spread across Clint's face. "You're not going to hurt me," he said confidently. "If you were, you would've already done it. But you're too worried about disappointing Steve."

Barnes sputtered a bit, trying to come up with a protest, but eventually just said, "don't test me, man."

"Look." Clint crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't want to disappoint Steve by hurting me. I don't want to disappoint Steve but letting you run around without anyone watching your back. How about we don't disappoint Steve together?"

Barnes raised an eyebrow questioningly and Clint had to ignore how hot he looked like that even all hobo-ed up as he was. 

"I won't try to make you go back to Steve," Clint offered quickly to try to cover his momentary distraction. "But I will tag along and help you with whatever you're doing next. I want to see these Hydra bastards get what they deserve too so it's a win-win. You can go back to Steve when you're ready--which you're kind of an idiot to not do anyway. He just wants to help you, after all. Wants to make sure you're okay and all. But whatever, man. Your choice. I'm not going to make you do anything, like I said..."

Barnes let out an annoyed groan. "Fine. Just...shut the fuck up and you can come. But no telling Steve where we are."

"We have a deal," Clint said, grinning broadly. 

Barnes swiveled on the spot and took off marching quickly down the long tunnel they had entered. Clint had to half walk, half jog to keep up. Damn super soldiers. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little more!  
> musical!Clint which is promised in the tags makes an appearance in this chapter, and in case you're wondering, the song I imagine him playing is Long Gone by Josiah Leming.  
> Sorry in advance for any typos!  
> Enjoy!

"Incoming!" Barton yelled at him from where he was firing off arrows--but really, who used a bow and arrow? Wasn't this the twenty first century or something?--farther down the hall. Bucky rolled his eyes. Maybe Barton was deaf, but Bucky wasn't and could hear him just fine without the yelling. 

He looked back at Barton just in time to see him take down a Hydra agent who had gotten too close by spinning an arrow in his hand and thrusting it down into the guy's throat. Bucky had to actively force his jaw to not drop. So maybe arrows weren't as ridiculous of a weapon as he had thought. Not in this guy's hands anyway. 

Bucky took down a squad of Hydra agents that came his way, but was distracted the entire time trying, once again, to puzzle out how on earth he hadn't recognized the archer. He thought he knew all about Steve's team. Stark with his ridiculous metal suit, the black widow, the guy with the wings, the guy that turned green, and the apparently literal god of thunder. And the archer. He supposed the problem was that Barton rarely got caught in all the Avengers footage. Everyone knew there was a member of the Avengers who was an archer and codenamed Hawkeye. But even more than the Black Widow, he seemed to make a point to stay out of the public eye. It was only when Barton said he worked for Steve that Bucky realized his mistake. 

But that led to another question: how the hell had Barton even found him?

The answer to that was going to have to wait for another time though because Barton had caught up to him and said, "We gotta find the exit to this place real quick. It's gonna blow any second and I'd prefer to not still be here."

Bucky nodded and continued down the hallway with his gun up, trying to blink the blood running from a cut in his forehead out of his eye. He turned down a hallway and spotted a guard but an arrow whizzed past his head and imbedded itself in the Hydra agent's throat before Bucky could even get a shot off. Damn, this guy was good. 

He flicked his gaze to Barton for a moment and found the archer smirking unashamedly back at him, clearly proud of his abilities. Bucky just rolled his eyes. 

Down the hallway, close to where the still twitching body of the guard lay, was a window with a decent ledge. Bucky holstered his gun and pulled himself up onto it easily. Bracing himself against the window frame, he fisted his metal arm and smashed it through the glass. 

"There's a latch on it, you dumbass," Bucky heard Clint say from the ground. The top of Clint's hair just barely reached the bottom of the ledge. "Why didn't you just pull the latch?"

Bucky looked down at the base of the window for the first time. Sure enough, there was a lock there. With a sigh, refusing to meet Barton's eyes, Bucky undid the lock and pushed the window open. As he reached down to help Barton up onto the ledge, his ears picked up the sound of feet one hallway over. 

"Hurry up," he hissed, watching the archer toss his bow over his shoulder. "There're more coming."

When they dropped down on the other side of the window, Barton took off running through towards the boundary of the base's extensive grounds and Bucky followed him on instinct. He deliberately chose not to dwell on what it meant that he trusted this guy without question after only twenty four hours of knowing him. The part of him that still clung to the Soldier was revolted by it. 

Turned out that Barton was headed for a patrol truck that had been hastily abandoned, judging by the fact that the keys were still in the ignition and the doors were hanging open. Bucky hopped into the bed of the truck while Barton dove into the cab and smashed the accelerator to the floor. 

"How much time do we have?" He heard Barton yell as he made for the gate that Bucky had...incapacitated earlier. 

Bucky checked his watch. "45 seconds!"

The engine revved as Barton floored the gas pedal again, blowing through the gate and out into the picturesque English countryside a little less than an hour outside of London. Bucky remembered being in London with Steve and Peggy during the war, but it felt old, used, a memory that was fuzzy around the edges and needed to be put away if it was to survive at all. That's when the base blew. 

Bucky ducked down in the bed of the truck, covering his face with his arms instinctively as debris rained down around him. 

After a few minutes, he looked up but all he could see was a haze of dust and smoke. Barton had kept driving through the explosion without slowing down a bit. Bucky’s hair was whipping all over the place and they were quickly putting distance between themselves and the former Hydra base. Bucky felt the sudden urge to smile. Something he was pretty sure he hadn’t done in years. In and out in fifteen minutes. That was faster than he’d ever taken down a base before. He supposed Barton wasn’t totally useless.

He climbed up to the front of the truck and knocked on the passenger window. Barton rolled it down so he could clamber in without having to stop.

“Not a bad job, partner,” Barton said, grinning at him and looking incredibly casual with one hand on the wheel and his other arm propped on the ledge of the open window. Bucky scowled at him and didn’t answer. He felt an overwhelming need to keep this man at arm’s length. Mostly because he was scared of how close the guy could get if Bucky gave him the chance. He was scared of how much he wanted to let the guy get close, too. And they’d only been working together for twenty-four hours.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asked after a few moments of silence.

“Got a safe house not too far from here,” Clint responded with an exaggerated wink that just seemed entirely unnecessary to Bucky.

The safe house turned out to be a tiny apartment on the outskirts of London. One bedroom with a tiny bathroom and combined kitchen and living room. So much for keeping the guy at arm’s length. They could barely move around the place without bumping into each other.

Bucky began his usual sweep of the perimeter as Barton puttered around doing whatever he was doing.

“You’re sure this place is secure?” Bucky asked as he scanned the window in the living room before pulling the blinds shut.

“Positive. Natasha and I know how to keep places off the books, trust me.” Barton tossed a duffel bag onto the couch and rifled through it.

Bucky paused. “The Black Widow knows about this place?”

“Calm down, buddy.” Barton flapped a hand in his direction. “She doesn’t know we’re here. We’ve got a hundred of these places all over the world.”

Bucky had a feeling that was an exaggeration, but he let it slide. He moved into the kitchen, checking around the appliances for any wires that seemed out of place and hidden bugs.

“Oh my god!” Barton suddenly shouted and Bucky whipped around immediately, reaching for his gun. But when he turned, Barton was holding a guitar that he had seen stored in the corner by the couch when he investigated the window. He hadn’t even given it a second thought.

“What the hell, Barton?” Bucky demanded. There was no need to be shouting when there wasn’t anything wrong.

“Sorry, sorry,” Barton said quickly, clearly understanding that he had freaked Bucky out. “Nat and I leave each other presents every time we stay at one of the safe houses. The last time she was here…god, it couldn’t have been less than a year ago. This beauty has just been sitting here!”

“You leave each other presents?” Bucky asked incredulously as Barton took a seat on the couch and began plucking at the guitar strings, testing the tuning. Weren’t these people supposed to be master assassins?

“Usually it’s just little stuff.” Barton adjusted one of the strings and plucked it again. “A chocolate bar, or knick-knack that has to do with an inside joke. Whatever. Stupid stuff. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me about this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and huffed. He didn’t have time for sappy, lovey-dovey crap. Deciding to ignore Barton, Bucky moved into the single bedroom. But just as he did, he heard Barton begin thumbing out a melody, fast but smooth and calming. His whole body was frozen by the beautiful sound. He shook his head and told himself to get it together, but when he finally moved, it was back into the living room rather than further into the bedroom.

Barton was still on the couch. His head bent over the guitar, but Bucky could still see the content smile turning up the sides of his mouth. It wasn’t that full force, thousand watt grin Bucky had seen so many times. This smile seemed more genuine, as if Barton had forgotten where he was for a minute. His long fingers moved agilely, methodically, mesmerizingly over the strings.

And then Barton started to sing. His voice was smooth, but somehow still gravelly and utterly honest. It seemed to float out of him in the most natural way. Bucky wanted to sink into it. He wanted Barton to keep singing forever. In the most cliché way possible, listening to Barton sing was like coming home. Bucky was suddenly not worried about his next step or next target or next mission. The world could've been consumed in flame, and he wouldn't have even noticed.

"Well now, I was hoping to find you and forget about this losing streak I'm on," Barton sang carefully, caressing each word as it left his lips.

When Barton plucked out the last few notes with unassuming tenderness, Bucky couldn’t help but feel disappointed. It wasn’t until Barton looked up at him, the same genuine smile on his lips as before, that Bucky cleared his throat and said awkwardly, “You need to be quieter or the whole damn city will know we’re here.”

“You’re right,” Barton responded easily. He set the guitar back on the stand in the corner, but the smile never wavered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yeah, I'm trash. I already broke my updating at least every other day rule. But, in my defense, it's because I was studying for finals. Which I'm done with as of today! Woohooooo! So I shouldn't have any problem keeping up with posting everyday now. This chapter is short and not really edited at all because I just wanted to get something up for you lovelies. I promise that the chapters will start getting longer once I'm back in the States.

Clint's fingers were itching to play that guitar again, but he knew Barnes was right. They were supposed to be keeping a low profile. So, though it pained him, he set the beautiful instrument aside and stood. 

"I'm going to make some food," he said loud enough that Barnes could hear him. "Want any? We've only got a bunch of non-perishables but I'll make something edible out of it."

"Yeah, sure," Barnes called back from the other room. "I'm going to shower now though."

"Go for it, man." Clint pulled some rice and corn out of the cabinet, wishing he had some chicken to go with it. He was a simple man, and chicken and rice was the best quick dinner in his opinion. He didn't need anything fancy. 

"Oh, uh, there should be some sweats or shorts that might fit you in one of the drawers in there. If you...you know, if you want to change." Clint called to Barnes through the open door. He didn't hear a reply but he heard the sound of drawers opening and shutting, so he turned back to his own task. 

Resigning himself to making due with what he had--meaning no meat--Clint pulled a pot out and started boiling water for the rice. He heard when the water started running in the bathroom. A nice, hot shower was sounding mighty good to him right about then too. And he definitely couldn't blame Barnes for wanting one. He wondered when the last time the guy had access to a shower was. Weeks, probably, based on the state of him. 

Working with Barnes had not been what he expected. He was much more...human than Clint had ever pictured him as. Before he was just a legend, a faceless name. Even after finding out that he was Cap's long, lost best friend, he hadn't really been able to think of him that way. But after working with him to bring down that Hydra base and realizing how much the guy cared about righting the wrongs Hydra had forced him to do, well, Clint was definitely feeling a bit more sympathy for the guy. 

Being under Loki's control for a few days had made him question everything he believed about himself. He couldn't imagine being brainwashed like that for decades. It made Clint's stomach curl to even think about. 

Just as he was dishing some of the rice and corn out onto plates, along with some beef jerky he had found the back of the cabinet, the bedroom door opened. Clint had to forcibly keep his face blank as Barnes came out into the living room. He was wearing a pair of Clint's sweats that hung low on his hips and a ridiculously tight white t-shirt--just the way Clint liked to wear his own shirts--which highlighted the muscles of his chest, stomach, and arms beautifully. His wet hair was slicked back into a bun on the top of his head and he had shaved, revealing a chiseled jawline and perfectly full lips. He looked like a whole new person. A really hot, new person. 

"I found a razor in there," Barnes said, breaking through Clint's distraction. "Hope its okay that I used it."

"Oh, yeah," Clint stumbled out while trying to force his eyes away from the other man. "Yeah, no big deal. Food's ready by the way."

Barnes didn't reply, but grabbed a plate from where Clint had set them on the counter and began eating. Well, less eating and more stuffing his face as fast as he could. Clint decided not to comment on it, but he suddenly felt sick thinking about the guy living on the streets by himself. And even with what little he knew of the man, he bet Barnes hadn't wanted to steal food while he was trying to get redemption for the wrong things he'd already done. He and Clint were alike in that way. Neither would want to add to his already long list of sins for something as trivial as food. An overwhelming urge to take care of the other man rose up in him, but he pushed it down, knowing Barnes wouldn't take kindly to being babied. 

They ate their meal in silence as the sun went down outside the window. Clint had no idea if they had a plan for tomorrow or if Barnes had a new target in mind. But Clint did grudgingly admit to himself that he wasn't going to be following Barnes to the next target simply because it's what Cap would want him to do. Without even realizing it, Clint had become invested in making sure this guy was going to be okay. 

Barnes cleaned up their plates, washing them and putting them away without saying a word to Clint. When Clint went to clean his bow, Barnes pulled out a few of his guns and went about cleaning those as well. Clint found that he very much so enjoyed the amiable silence as they took care of their weapons. It had been a long time since he had clicked with someone so easily. The last one had been Natasha. 

When his guns were stored properly, Barnes turned to Clint and said, "we should sleep. I'm supposed to hear back from an informant tomorrow and then we will have to move."

Clint liked that Barnes was now including him in the plans so easily. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"Only one bed," Clint said as he packed his bow away, unable to keep the cheeky grin from his face. 

"I'll take the couch," Barnes said immediately and Clint would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed. 

"Don't be ridiculous," he waved Barnes off as he started to move towards the couch. "The bed's plenty big enough for both of us. If I can find room to sleep on it with Natasha sleeping spread eagle, the two of us will be fine. That couch is shit anyway."

Barnes seemed reluctant, but then nodded. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. Finally, he asked casually, "you and the black widow share a bed a lot?"

He seemed to be embarrassed by his question as soon as it was out of his mouth. Clint just laughed and said, "No, man. No, not like that. Well, once, but not anymore."  
He shrugged in a "what can you do?" kind of way and headed into the bedroom with Barnes following reluctantly behind. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm currently posting from my phone because my internet decided to go out. I've never posted from my phone before so I'm sorry if the editing is weird or if there's a bunch of typos and such.  
> I hope you enjoy!

Bucky thought it would be weird sleeping next to Barton. He was worried his defensive instincts would kick in. But they didn't. Barton laid down on one side of the bed after stripping down to boxers and a tight t-shirt and seemed to fall asleep instantly. The fact that Barton trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence without so much as a second thought really kind of amazed him. And that helped him get a lid on his own anxiety. If Barton could trust him that easily, maybe he could trust Barton.

Bucky moved to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers, not really realizing until he was under then that he was holding his breath. He let it out in a slow, practiced way and listened to the sound of Barton's breathing. The other man's heat seemed to stretch across the empty space between them and Bucky couldn't decide if being so aware of him made him more comfortable or uncomfortable.

Either way, he felt kind of ridiculous. He was so used to being cold and unattached, even if his time as the winter soldier was kind of hazy in his memory, but something about being around Barton seemed to heighten all of his senses and dull them at the same time. One thing was for sure, he felt more like himself than he had in almost seventy years when he was around Barton.

\----------

Bucky woke up to a strange noise coming from inside the room. He was already sitting straight up with a knife clutched in his flesh hand and his metal hand fisted tightly when he realized that the sound was coming from the man laying next to him. A strangled, distressed noise tearing from Barton's throat as he curled into a tight ball and gripped the pillow until his knuckles turned white. Bucky had enough nightmares himself to recognize the what was happening.

It took a second to get his adrenaline under control. He dropped the knife back onto the bedside table then studied the man next to him, debating what to do. The noise continued interspersed with a helpless whimpering, and occasionally Barton would lash out into the open air above him with one arm.

On the one hand, Bucky didn't trust his training to not kick in if he tried to wake the other man and Barton attacked him. On another hand, he didn't know how Barton would feel to be woken up by Bucky. Maybe he'd be embarrassed and not want to follow Bucky around anymore. If the situations were reversed, that's probably how he would've felt. And he didn't want Barton to go. On the other hand, he couldn't just let Barton suffer through a nightmare. Again, Bucky had enough of his own nightmares to know how terrible they could be. It just wasn't...humane to let someone right next to you run the full course of a nightmare when you were in a position to do something about it. And Bucky hated the idea of Barton suffering like that.

"Barton," Bucky rasped into the dark room, realizing how dry his throat was. He cleared it as best he could. "Wake up, Barton."

No response.

He reached over and touched the other man's arm. This was something new. He wouldn't say either had gone out of their way to not touch each other, but they certainly hadn't made a habit of casual touches. Barton's skin was surprisingly cool under his fingers. Before they could do more than brush across his arm, though, Barton shot straight up, reaching for the gun in the night stand. But then he seemed to comprehend that he wasn't under attack, swiveling his eyes around the room quickly and letting them drop of Bucky for a moment before dropping his head into his hands.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice still thick with sleep and fear.

"You were having a nightmare," Bucky said, and then emotional defenses kicked in and he suddenly didn't want Barton to know the more...sentimental reasons why he'd woken him. "You were gonna wake the whole damn place with the noises you were making."

It didn't matter what he said though because as soon as he stopped talking, he realized that Barton's hearing aids weren't in his ears and the man hadn't heard a word. Sighing, he reached over a touched Barton's shoulder again to get his attention. When the archer looked at him, he carefully signed "you were having a nightmare."

Barton's eyebrows shot up. "You know sign?"

"I know a lot of languages," Bucky signed.

Barton sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "You should go back to sleep," he said after a few seconds. "'M sorry I woke you."

Bucky didn't respond, just slid back down against his pillow and watched as Barton stood and moved into the bathroom. He heard the water running for a minute and then the other man came back, climbing into the bed stiff and quiet. Bucky fell asleep this time knowing Barton was still awake.

\-----

The next time Bucky woke up, he was laying on his stomach and Barton was asleep again. At some point in the last few hours, the two men had moved closer together and Bucky's arm had ended up thrown across Barton's chest. He would've been embarrassed except then he noticed the way Barton's hand was fisted in his shirt, almost as if he was trying to pull Bucky towards him. Bucky's heart did a weird pitter patter. He pulled his arm away from Barton, worrying about the weight and coldness of the metal, but left Barton's hand where it was.

\-----

The next time Bucky woke up, Barton was gone. The other side of the bed was empty and Bucky knew a moment of disappointment. But then he noticed the sounds of the shower running and then his burner phone buzzed. The one that only one of his contacts had the number for. This was the call he'd been waiting on.

He picked it up and listened as the man on the other side of the line gave him the details of a base in Switzerland he'd been trying to find for months. The man was speaking bad French with a Swedish accent and Bucky really regretted not being able to punch him for generally being an asshole. All Bucky had to do was threaten to burn his suits before the guy agreed to work with him.

Halfway through the guy's report, though, the bathroom door opened and Barton stepped out with nothing but a towel on. Bucky almost lost track of the coordinates the guy was rattling off. In that moment, Bucky had a minor epiphany about his sexuality. Once he knew it, he felt like he had known it before. Like, before before. Before the winter soldier and before his memories were taken. But Hydra had put so much effort into suppressing any...desires he might have that it seemed to be taking all of those memories the longest to come back.

Barton raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, looking pointedly at the phone, and Bucky managed to pull himself together. He harshly cut off the long litany the guy was giving of why he needed Bucky to let him out of their deal now that he'd gotten the information about the base and snapped the flip phone shut.

"So what's the deal?" Barton asked as he finished putting his hearing aids in place.

"We've got our next target." Bucky pushed any thoughts of Barton and his sexuality away and settled back into an area he was much more comfortable with. The destruction of Hydra.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update here, but if you're lucky, you might get another one by the end of the day!   
> Again, I'm posting from my phone so I apologize if the formatting is weird or there are any typos.   
> Enjoy!

Clint was kind of in awe of Barnes. The man radiated power and moved with such deadly grace. Everything he did was practiced and fluid and sure. He had noticed while he was following Barnes around, but watching him fight up close was a whole new thing. He had been surprised when he found out the amount of damage Barnes had done to Cap, but now he understood.

They were in a pretty small city in Switzerland. The base they infiltrated turned out to be a dead end. It was mostly empty, with just a few techs and paper pushers lingering around in the nondescript office building who didn't put up much of a fight. When they realized it, Clint thought Barnes was going to lose it. His control started to slip as he moved from room to room, shaking his head and muttering, "this isn't it. This is wrong."

"Barnes, look," Clint said, trying to distract the man. "Maybe we can pull some information from the computers."

The other man ignored him, moving into another room and shooting a terrified tech in the leg without a second thought or glance. The tech screamed and tried to drag himself behind a desk. Clint ran a hand through his hair.

"This isn't it," Barnes repeated.

"What are you looking for?" Clint finally asked in desperation after three more rooms didn't elicit a different response.

"It was supposed to be here." Barnes grabbed some papers off a desk and studied them for a second before tossing them to the side in disgust.

Well at least that was new, Clint thought.

Barnes stood in the middle of the room, a gun still clutched tightly in his flesh hand and his metal arm whirring in anticipation for a fight that apparently wasn't going to come. His chest started to heave a little with a little more force as his gaze turned frantic. The metal fist came slamming down on the desk in front of him causing it to buckle and split down the middle, falling in on itself and sending all of the abandoned contents to the ground.

"Barnes!" Clint snapped. The man was about to lose it. He had to stop him before the guy brought the whole building down out of sheer frustration. Barnes sent a chair flying into the wall with a powerful kick. Clint was shocked to see not only anger and frustration on his face now, but pain. He dropped his bow back around his shoulders and held his hands up in a submissive manner.

"Bucky," he said in a calm, cautious voice and took several steps towards the man. His eyes swung around to meet Clint's. The were frantically wide, but surprise had overtaken him enough for a distraction when Clint used his name. Barnes let out a whimper and then something like a growl before he turned and sent a file cabinet violently to the ground.

"Bucky!" Clint said again and latched onto the man's arm. Barnes turned on him, his metal hand closing around Clint's wrist where it grabbed him. But he made no move to throw Clint off or pull away, so Clint stepped closer. He brought his other hand up to rest on Barnes' shoulder before he asked, "what are you looking for?"

Barnes huffed out a few breaths as his gaze settled on Clint. His metal hand tightened on Clint's arm, but more in a desperate way rather than threatening. As if he was using it to steady himself.

"I..." He began, but it devolved into a strangled sound as teeth clenched and his head dropped against his chest.

"Hey," Clint said and moved his hands to rest on either side of the man's face, tilting Barnes' head up to look at him again. "We're okay. I'm here to help. Tell me what you need."

The pleading, broken looked in his eyes almost broke Clint's heart as he choked out. "Pierce. I'm looking for Alexander Pierce. It was supposed to be here." His eyes shut tight and he heaved a big breath. "The information... I thought this was where I had been before but... It's not here."

"Bucky," Clint said, his voice catching slightly. How could Barnes not know this? Is this really what he'd been working towards the whole time? "Pierce is dead."

The man's eyes snapped back open. Shock evident on his face. He gaped at Clint, his mouth opening and closing a few times with no words managing to form. Clint swallowed and rubbed his thumb over the prominent cheekbone under it. "Alexander Pierce died the day Project Insight fell."

Barnes began to shake his head, but he gripped Clint's wrist even firmer, holding the hand in place against his cheek. "N-no," he finally managed to stutter out. "No, I saw...I thought...he can't be dead."

The new information was clearly too much for the man, so Clint pulled one hand away to grab the chair that had previously been kicked against the wall and set it up right. Pulling Barnes toward it, he pushed the other man back into it and squatted in front of him, his hands dropping to rest on Barnes' knees. "Nick Fury shot him," he said. "I saw the body, Bucky."

Barnes dropped his head into his hands. Clint felt the desperate need to help him, to comfort him, but he had no idea how. He'd never been good at this stuff. "Look," Clint said finally. "I'm going to go over there and see what I can find out from that computer." He pointed towards a computer on the not-destroyed desk on the other side of the room. "Then we're going to get the hell out of here, yeah?"

Barnes didn't respond as his body began to shake, the shock of the news sending tremors through him. Clint stood and, without really thinking about it, leaned in to press his lips against the top of Bucky's head. It felt natural and he didn't second guess it as he did what he said he was going to and made his way to the computer.

He was no Natasha, but he knew his way around a computer. He began searching through the computers hard drive, the newest files and correspondence first. What he found sent chills through his blood. "Bucky," he called out. "You might want to look at this."

The other man unfolded himself from the seat, wiping his eyes, and moved to stand behind Clint. He could feel Bucky's posture shift and his muscles tense as he read what Clint had found. It was a thoroughly laid out plan detailing how to lure out and capture Captain America.

"When?" Bucky said, his voice steady and focused again. The franticness from moments before completely gone and determination taking its place.

"Three days." Clint stood up straight from where he'd been bending over the computer and pointed to the latest correspondence which officially called for the plan to be set in motion.

"We have to stop it." The man beside him ground out between clenched teeth.

He closed his hand over the man's elbow and squeezed reassuringly. "We will."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm posting at 1am but life is life. This part and the next part were actually supposed to be one part but then I decided to make it two parts. Good story, right?  
> Anyway, the point is that both this one and the next are from Bucky's perspective.  
> Smuttiness will ensue in the next chapter.  
> First song Clint sings is Hooked by Mayer Hawthorne. Second song is Cherry Wine by Hozier.

For the first time since Barton had joined him, Bucky seriously considered ditching him when the man insisted they stay the night at a safe house of his in Geneva. Bucky had wanted to leave immediately for New York, but Barton said they needed to rest. He also said that he had someone who could get them to New York faster than any commercial airline, Bucky just needed to give it a few hours for the guy to get back in touch.

He supposed Barton wasn't wrong. They had pushed themselves pretty hard to get to that useless base. Neither had slept in almost forty eight hours and barely eaten anything since they left the other safe house. They wouldn't be able to stop anybody if they passed out from exhaustion and hunger.

They went to a market to grab some food before going to the safe house. Once they were there though, they both passed out on the bed.

The sleep was amazing. All the emotion from the last few hours had left Bucky feeling raw and exposed and totally drained. He couldn't believe Pierce was dead. He had spent months trying to track the guy down and hadn't caught a whiff of anyone mentioning it. It made Bucky think they must've already replaced him because the chatter hadn't changed much. Someone had to have taken over or the organization would've been in disarray.

He had to admit that he was a little disappointed. Not just because he had wasted months chasing a ghost, but because it hadn't been him who took the son of a bitch out. Pierce represented all the shit he had been put through. Taking out a random new head who he hadn't ever seen wouldn't be nearly as satisfying.

Then finding out that they were going after Steve was like a punch to the gut. It was all his fault. If Bucky was still under their control, they wouldn't need another super soldier. But they seemed to decide it would easier to subdue Steve than it would be to recapture Bucky. He knew he couldn't let that happen. Because he knew first hand the horrors Steve would be subjected to if he was captured by Hydra. There was no way he could leave Steve to that fate.

And to complicate things, he knew he was developing feelings for Barton. He had no idea what would've happened if the archer hadn't been at the base with him when he started freaking out. God, that had been so embarrassing. But Barton has made him feel safe and had talked him down. It'd been a long time since he felt like someone cared about him.

Bucky woke sluggishly from the nap which was weird for him. Usually his body snapped out of sleep immediately aware of his situation and surroundings. But it had been a long time since he'd slept that well too. Barton wasn't in the bed anymore but he heard shuffling from outside the bedroom so he crawled out from the covers. Wiping sleep from his eyes, he made his way out into the small kitchen and living area.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his chest. Barton was standing in front of the kitchen stove, cooking something that smelled delicious, wearing only his boxers and a tight t-shirt, and he was singing. It was an energetic, peppy song that Bucky had never heard before, but he throughly enjoyed how much Barton was clearly enjoying the song. The archer was bobbing his head as he sang and bouncing around the kitchen, swinging his hips back and forth every once in a while in a way that left Bucky mesmerized.

Bucky swallowed thickly just as Barton turned and saw him, stopping mid-song much to Bucky's disappointment. "Well hey there, sleeping beauty," he said with a grin as he turned back to the stove. "So I've been trying to get ahold of Nat but she's not answering any of my usual methods and I really have no idea where in the world she is right now. And I've been trying to contact the tower but I don't have a number that Jarvis recognizes right now so he's keeping me out. I'm going to have to talk to Tony about getting some secure lines for each of us or something. But I heard back from our ride and she's going to pick us up in six hours."

Bucky was only half listening as Barton chattered. He was too busy coming to terms with the realization that he wasn't just developing feelings for Barton like he thought. He had feelings. Lots of feelings. Feelings he had no idea what to do with. At the same time, he was thinking about how much he wanted Barton to sing some more. He wondered if he could find a guitar for Barton to play too.

"Bucky?" He registered Barton saying his name and snapped his eyes back up from where he'd been letting them wander down the man's body. Barton was smirking when Bucky reached his face again.

It was the smirk that set him in motion. That goddamn, overconfident, insanely sexy smirk that made Bucky's feet startling towards the other man. He closed the distance between them quickly, and Barton accepted his lips like he knew they were coming, like he'd been expecting them. Like this was a normal thing for them to be doing. Barton's lips were soft and warm under Bucky's. The kiss quickly went from sweet and chaste to playful and a bit competitive. When Bucky swiped his tongue over Barton's bottom lip, Barton caught Bucky's lip with his teeth. When Barton's hand slipped around Bucky's neck and tangled in the hairs at the nape of his neck, Bucky pushed the other man up against the counter, pressing their bodies flush together.

When they finally pulled apart, both out of breath and very aroused, Barton said, "well, damn, Barnes. If you wanted me that much you coulda just said something."

Bucky let out a low growl as he fought the smile that threatened to come to the surface. "Shut the fuck up." He pressed another kiss to the other man's lips before saying a little more shyly, "And call me Bucky."

"Then you have to actually call me Clint and not Barton."

Bucky grinned. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled so widely. "Deal."

Their mouths met again, messy and excited. Before the kiss could really get going though, Barton pulled away frantically. "Shit! My sauce!"

Bucky held the archer in place against the counter and reached over with his metal hand to turn off the stove and move the pot off the burner. Then he turned back and began trailing wet kisses along Clint's jaw.

"I have to stir it or it'll get goopey!" Clint said as he attempted to wiggle out from his trapped position. Bucky chuckled and let him go. Clint dove for the spoon and began stirring the tomato sauce tenderly.

Bucky wrapped his flesh arm around the man from behind and began to press kisses to his shoulder and bare neck. Now that he had a taste of Clint, he couldn't get enough. Clint hummed happily and began to sing again under his breath. This song was slower and sweeter than the one from earlier and Bucky wanted to melt into it. Wanted to melt into Clint. He could've stood there with Clint in his arms, the taste of him in his mouth, and the sound of him in his ears forever.

When he was satisfied with the sauce, Clint poured it into a bowl on the counter and then turned around in the circle of Bucky's arms with a smile on his face. Their lips met in an innocent kiss before Clint said, "eat first. But more of this later, yeah?"

"We've got six hours, right?" Bucky murmured with a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. Smut always takes me a while to write and I've had really long and tiring shifts at work lately.   
> But, yes. There is smut in this chapter. If you don't like smut, you can just skip over this chapter.   
> If you like smut, I'll stop talking and get on with it.

Dinner was torture. Well, it was delicious, but it was also torture. Bucky had to force himself to not just shove the food in his mouth as fast as he could so that they could get back to the kissing and the touching. It was pretty obvious that Clint was having the same issue. Every once in a while he would look up at Bucky, his eyes a few shades darker and his pupils blown wide which only made Bucky want him more. The sexual tension in the room was palpable and it was driving him crazy.

Clint finished eating and dropped his plate in the sink before coming back around to where Bucky was sitting. He was ready to ditch the rest of his meal when Clint pressed a light kiss to his lips, but then Clint said, "I'm going to take a shower real quick."

Bucky scowled in disappointment, and Clint laughed openly at him before moving towards the bedroom. Bucky knew Clint thought he had the upper hand so he threw out, "why do you need to shower when you're just going to get all sweaty again?"

"Want to be at my best for you, baby," Clint shot back and winked at Bucky over his shoulder. Just before he disappeared behind the bedroom door, he made a show of pulling off his shirt to reveal the strong, taut, positively sinful muscles of his back that left Bucky growling and needy.

It was all he could do to not join the other man in the shower, but that would definitely be a point for Clint in the little game they'd started and he wasn't quite that desperate yet. Once he finished eating, he grabbed one of his favorite knives and sat on the edge of the bed, sharpening it casually.

That's where he was when Clint came out a few minutes later, his chest bare and a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

"Thought maybe you would join me in the shower," Clint said as he rubbed a towel over his wet hair.

Bucky shrugged, feigning indifference. "Had to sharpen my knife."

Clint stuck his lower lip out in a ridiculous pout as he dropped the towel and came to stand directly in front of Bucky. "Are you saying you like your knife better than me?"

"Maybe," Bucky responded, a little half smile sneaking to his face as he looked up at the other man. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Clint raised his eyebrows at the obvious challenge. Slowly, determinedly, he took the knife and sharpener from Bucky's hands and set them on the bedside table, his eyes locked on Bucky's the whole time. Bucky's pants were already feeling tighter but he fought to keep from showing the way Clint was affecting him. Steve always did say that he was too competitive for his own good.

Clint's hand crept around the back of his head and his fingers tangled in his hair tightly. His face was inches from Bucky's when he said, "I'm gonna change you're mind."

The moan that Bucky released was muffled by Clint's mouth claiming his in a fierce kiss. His hands shot out and latched onto Clint's hips, pulling the man in closer until he finally climbed onto the bed and straddled Bucky's lap. Instincts that Bucky didn't know he had kicked in. Some kind of muscle memory as he began nipping and sucking his way down Clint's throat. Strong hands gripped his biceps tightly as he sucked an impressive mark just under Clint's collarbone. Clint grinned down at him when Bucky pulled back to study his work.

"Looks good, babe," he said and ducked his head to capture Bucky's lips again, his tongue darting out to get a taste. His hands grasped the hem of Bucky's shirt and he moved away just long enough to pull it over his head. Placing his hands on Bucky's chest, thumbs grazing purposefully over the pebbled nipples, Clint pushed him back until he was laying up against the pillows.

Clint ran his hand over the growing bulge in Bucky's pants teasingly as his lips explored Bucky's neck. As Bucky massaged the heated skin of Clint's back, he felt memories bumping at the back of his mind, but couldn't pull them to the surface. He felt like a virgin all over again. It was like he was being touched for the first time and it made his heart race.

Clint swiped his tongue over Bucky's pulse point, pulling a throaty moan from his lips. The moan was rewarded by an increase of pressure on his covered cock.

"Tell me what you like, baby," Clint murmured against his skin, continuing to trail wet kisses across his collar bone.

Bucky was caught off guard by the words. He didn't know what he liked. That information had been taken from him with his memories. He knew what he wanted. He wanted Clint. He wanted all of Clint. But what did he like?

"I don't remember," he finally answered honestly, though he was embarrassed by the admission. Clint stopped his ministrations and his muscles tensed. He let out a low growl and dropped his forehead down to rest on Bucky's chest. Inwardly, Bucky started freaking out. He ruined everything. He destroyed the mood.

"Clint?" Bucky ventured cautiously. "I'm sorry. I didn't..."

"No!" Clint cut him off suddenly, looking back up at him and touching his face lightly. "Don't apologize. You're fine." He rubbed his thumb across Bucky's cheekbone gently but he was clearly still agitated. "It just... It makes me so fucking angry. That they would do that. That they just took that from you. Goddammit."

Clint pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes as he tried to get a lid on his anger. Bucky didn't know what to say. He never would've expected for someone to get so angry for him. At him, sure. He deserved it. He had done terrible things. But Clint didn't seem to care about that. Clint was angry for him and that sent his heart into elated confusion.

When Clint pulled away again, the anger was replaced with a mischievous grin. He slanted his mouth over Bucky's in a sloppy kiss and then said, "let's find out what you like then."

One of his hands caressed the outside of Bucky's thigh while the other gripped onto the metal arm and his mouth began retracing its previous trail downwards. Bucky buried his metal hand in Clint's soft blonde hair and focused on the sensation of Clint's lips on his body.

"Tell me when I hit something good," Clint said with a playful lilt to his voice just before he grazed his teeth over Bucky's nipple and then sucked it hard into his mouth. This man was going to be the death of Bucky. He moaned helplessly and arched up into Clint's mouth. He grinned when he finally pulled off and said, "Got one."

He spent a few more minutes destroying Bucky's self control with only his mouth working its way over Bucky's chest and stomach before his fingers found their way to the waistband of Bucky's sweatpants.

"The main attraction, ladies and gentlemen," he quipped with the usual ready smile on his lips, but his darkened eyes showed how much he was affected by what he'd been doing to Bucky too. He pulled the sweats down ceremoniously, taking his time and worshipping the skin that was slowly revealed.

Once Bucky's cock sprang free, though, all of Clint's self-control seemed to disappear, as well. He whipped the pants off the rest of the way in a swift motion and wrapped his hand around the base of the already leaking member. Bucky cried out as Clint began to jerk him off. He couldn't believe he didn't remember this. The way this felt. The warmth of someone else's hand and the throbbing of his dick as it threatened to explode. He looked down at Clint, knowing his face was filled with awe, and drank in the scene of Clint between his legs.

Clint, of course, winked at him when their eyes met. And then he swallowed Bucky's cock with no hesitation. Bucky couldn't help the wrecked sounds that found their way to his lips or the way his hips tried to thrust up even farther into the wet heat of Clint's mouth. Having Clint's hand on him was nothing compared to this.

Clint began to bob his head up and down quickly setting an overwhelmingly fast pace as Bucky scrambled for something to grab onto. He heard the sheets rip but couldn't bring himself to care. Clint's tongue flattened against the underside of his cock and he swallowed him down again.

"Fuck, Clint. Fuck, yes," was all he could say over and over again. All coherent thought had been driven from his brain by the feeling of Clint's mouth. Clint pulled back up, suckling the head, and then his tongue dipped into the slit expertly.

"So good," Bucky moaned out as his flesh hand found its way back to Clint's hair. It was Clint's teeth just barely grazing over his cock that made his hand clench and pull at the man's hair. And it was his hand pulling at Clint's hair that made Clint moan around his cock. And it was Clint's moan that sent him spiraling over the edge. He shouted Clint's name as he spurted down the back of the man's throat.

Clint swallowed it down and only pulled off after licking him clean. When Bucky came down, Clint was propped up above him on one elbow, his pants pushed down to his ankles as he stroked his own erection at a quick pace.

"Can I-fuck. Can I come on you, baby?" Clint gasped out. Bucky immediately licked a stripe across his palm and pushed Clint's hand away, taking up the pace the other man had started. This, at least, he felt confident doing. He'd jerked himself off enough times since his memories were taken that he knew how to do it. Clint let out a low groan and pressed his face into Bucky's shoulder.

"Tou-touch me, Buck. Please," Clint stammered out. Bucky didn't understand at first. He already was touching him. But then it dawned on him as Clint kicked his pants the rest of the way off and spread his legs wider.

This was not something Bucky was as confident about. Nevertheless, he sucked two metal fingers into his mouth and coated them as best as he could. Tentatively, he swiped one finger over Clint's hole.

"God, yes, babe-fuck," Clint groaned, his hips pushing down against Bucky's fingers. Feeling a bit more confident, Bucky pushed one finger through the ring of muscle.

"M-more," Clint demanded as he ran his hand up and down Bucky's metal arm. So Bucky added a second finger, slowly pushing in and then pulling almost all the way out. He thrust his fingers cautiously, but Clint's moans continued to get louder the faster he moved them. Soon he was setting time with his other hand's ministrations on Clint's cock.

"Gonna come, baby," Clint murmured and rubbed their noses together. "Feels good-fuck. So good, baby."

It was when Bucky hooked his fingers slightly that Clint's mouth formed an "O" and his back arched as he shot hot spurts onto Bucky's stomach and chest.

Once Bucky pulled his fingers out and released the now limp cock, Clint slumped down on the bed, totally spent. Bucky watched him as his body slowly stopped shuddering and he took a few deep breaths. Reaching out, Bucky brushed away the hair that was plastered to Clint's forehead by sweat. Clint's mouth spread into a lazy smile and he caught Bucky's hand, tugging at it and pulling Bucky towards him.

Letting himself be pulled, Bucky found that he couldn't stop the smile that found its way to his face in answer to Clint's. Clint used the shirt Bucky had been wearing to clean them both up before settling down again. They kissed lazily, both feeling satisfied and happy.

After a minute, Clint looked over at the clock. Bucky admired his profile, wondering suddenly how the hell he had gotten here. He had been completely and depressingly alone less than a week ago. And now here he was, falling in love with an archer.

Clint turned back to him, grinning as usual, and wrapped an arm around his waist. He ran his nose along Bucky's collarbone before saying with an obvious challenge in his voice, "We still have three hours."

And Bucky laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm so sorry it took so long to get this update up. I've been so sick this last week and haven't hardly done anything productive. This chapter is kind of a filler, so sorry about that too. Thanks for sticking with it!

Clint couldn't help the happy hum that escaped him as his eyes fluttered open. He felt warm all over and instinctively scooted closer to the soft skin pressed against his back. Calloused fingers were tapping gently at his side. It took him a minute to realize that the fingers were talking to him. Morse code. He didn't have his aids in and he supposed this was the only way Bucky could think to get his attention.

He focused on the gentle taps and quickly decoded the message. He was being told to wake up. Grumbling a bit, he turned over onto his back and settled an accusatory glare on Bucky's face. Bucky smiled down at him and signed out "Steve," before pointing at the clock.

Oh, right. They had a mission. Had to go protect the good captain and were supposed to meet their ride to New York in an hour. Clint shook his head to clear the last of the sleep out of it and sat up. His hearing aids were pushed into his hand by Bucky but before he put them in, he leaned over and claimed the other man's lips because he knew he might not get another chance for a while once they left the apartment.

Bucky nipped at his bottom lip playfully, and Clint had to fight to not deepen the kiss and let himself get distracted. Pulling away hesitantly, he fixed the aids into his ears and yawned widely. It was time to focus now.

"Where are we meeting our ride?" Bucky asked as he pulled on his combat gear. He was all business now which made Clint want to pout and pull him back to bed. But refrained with a forlorn sigh. There would be more time for the other stuff later.

"An airfield just outside of town. Not too far." He stood as he spoke and reached for his duffel bag which held his own gear. He felt Bucky's eyes on his still naked body and couldn't help but exaggerate the bend to the duffel bag, giving Bucky a good view of his ass. Bucky's metal hand closed over his right cheek and squeezed lightly as the assassin bent to whisper in his ear, "you have got to stop. We have a mission."

Clint blinked innocently, but grinned. "I don't know what you're talking about, Buck."

Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head. Turning his back to Clint, he grabbed the knife Clint had put on the bedside table to night before, flipped it dexterously in his hand a few times before sheathing it near his hip. Clint let out a small groan at the the display of skilled fingers and the memory of them on his skin from just hours before. Bucky smirked, knowing exactly what he'd done, and said, "you about ready yet?"

Grumbling, Clint slung his bow over his shoulder along with his restocked quiver and stomped past Bucky into the living room and out the door with Bucky chuckling behind him the whole way. When they arrived at the airfield, the Bus was already there with Coulson and May waiting outside. As they approached, Bucky whispered, "you're sure we can trust these guys?"

Clint looked him straight in the eye and said confidently, "one hundred percent."

Bucky studied his face for a moment and then nodded, a show of faith in Clint's judgment that he knew spoke a great deal about how much Bucky had come to trust him. He let his hand brush over Bucky's lightly in acknowledgment and reassurance. The fact that Bucky was willing to trust him so readily made his heart do a weird flip.

"Barton," Coulson said and stretched out a hand. "Good to see you."

Clint looked from Coulson's hand to his face and back. "You told Nat yet?"

"Uh, no," he admitted with a slight blush painting his cheeks.

Rolling his eyes, Clint took the hand, shaking it once, and said, "the longer you wait, the more pissed she's going to be."

"I've told him that plenty of times," May said. "It doesn't seem to make a difference." With that, she turned and headed back onto the plane. Clint had always liked May and her no bullshit attitude.

Coulson was studying Bucky with that carefully neutral smile on his face and Clint had to ignore the sudden urge to step between the two men. He could feel the way Bucky's muscles are tensed next to him so he placed a hand on the assassin's shoulder. "Coulson, have you met Barnes? Barnes, meet Coulson."

He wasn't sure how much Coulson knew about the Winter Soldier and his real identity, but he knew that Coulson wasn't in contact with Cap--seeing as Cap didn't even know he was alive--so he figured it was safe enough even if Coulson did figure it out.

"Good to meet you." The SHIELD director have nothing away in his tone of voice or his expression. He was a close second to Natasha in being hard to read. "That's an impressive arm you've got there."

Bucky shook Coulson's proffered hand but made no response to the comment about his arm. Clint already missed the more expressive Bucky he'd been getting to know lately. This was more like the Bucky he'd first met.

"Well," Clint said loudly and clapped his hands in an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness that Bucky's silence brought on. "How about we get this bird in the air."

"Where's the rest of your team, Coulson?" Clint inquired when he noticed the lack of personnel in the large plane as they moved farther into it.

"Working," Coulson responded cryptically with a small smile. "Make yourselves comfortable. I'm going to check in with May."

Bucky relaxed a bit as soon as Coulson exited the room. Clint touched his arm lightly in what he hoped was a reassuring way and asked, "you doing okay, Buck?"

For a minute Bucky didn't respond, just looked down at where Clint's fingers were touching metal. Finally, he met Clint's eyes and the anguish that filled them made Clint want to wrap him in his arms and never let go. After taking a few deep breaths, Bucky said, "we have to stop them from getting to Steve."

Clint turned so he was facing Bucky directly and set his hands on the other man's shoulders. "We will, Buck. I promised you that." Clint made sure Bucky was looking him in the eye so that he knew how serious Clint was. "I always keep my promises."

"I can't let them take him," Bucky insisted, shaking his head frantically, his eyes wild. The reaction reminded Clint of Bucky's freak out at the abandoned base and he really didn't want the assassin to start throwing furniture around Coulson's plane. "I know what they do, Clint. I know what they do to people. What they'll do to him. I ca-," he choked up with a broken sound. "I can't let that happen."

"It's not going to, Buck." Clint slid his hands down to Bucky's and raised both hands to his lips, kissing the gloved knuckles and then the metal ones. "We'll get to Steve way before they even have their ambush planned for. We'll keep him safe."

Bucky just shook his head more, looking even more desperate and alarmed then before. "N-no. I don't-I can't see Steve. I just want to stop them. I'm not ready to see him, Clint."

Clint was shocked to see Bucky close to tears at the idea of seeing his friend. He thought this situation would be enough to push Bucky past his avoidance of Steve. But apparently, he had been wrong. Part of him wanted to argue with Bucky. It would be a lot easier to deal with this if they had more help and if Steve knew he was in danger. The other part of him just wanted Bucky to be calm and to feel safe. That part won. "Okay, baby. Okay," he said soothingly, focusing on the desperate blue eyes of the man in front of him. "We'll stop them. You and me. Okay? You don't have to see Steve."

Bucky took a few deep breaths and seemed to calm down, finally nodding slowly. The plane started to move under them and then May's voice sounded over the intercom telling them to get ready for take off. Clint slid one hand into Bucky's hair and pulled him forward to press a kiss to his forehead before pulling him towards the couch so they could buckle up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for a new chapter!  
> Hope you enjoy!

When they got to New York, the man Clint had introduced as Coulson apologized that they wouldn't be able to stay and help. That was perfectly fine with Bucky. Coulson unsettled him and the woman, though he'd never admit it out loud, was ridiculously intimidating. Clint fidgeted anxiously through the goodbyes, and Bucky knew there was something he wanted to say. Most likely having to do with what they discussed on the plane.

Whatever Clint had to said to calm him down, he knew Clint wanted to go to the Avengers before taking on the Hydra goons hiding out in the city. He considered telling Clint to go warn the tower's occupants while he scoped out the warehouse Hydra was using as a base. There were two reasons he didn't do that. First, if Clint slipped and Steve found out Bucky was in the city, Steve would insist on coming after him. Second, and probably even more of a deciding factor than the first, Bucky was worried that Clint would decide not to come back to Bucky if he left. It was selfish, but there was a voice blaring in the back of his mind telling him that if he let Clint out of his sight, he'd never see him again. What was Bucky to Clint's team? Why would Clint ever choose him over them?

So he didn't suggest it as they made their way through the city, and Clint didn't say what he was thinking about needing back up and preventative measures that could be taken to protect Steve. Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd been in New York and been conscious of it. The city felt different. Heavier. Colder. The chilly night air gnawed at him. Or maybe that was just the memories weighing on his mind. He shook off the ghosts clinging to him and focused on the mission. Clint's steady presence by his side kept him grounded.

The warehouse wasn't hard to find. They had the general area from the intel at the abandoned base back in Switzerland, and Clint knew the area around the tower pretty well. After that things went to shit real fast.

They found a perch across from the warehouse to scope out what was happening, but it became obvious almost immediately that the Hydra agents were already mobilizing when they shouldn't have been for another twenty four hours. Suddenly the time they thought they would have for recon and building a plan disappeared and they knew if they didn't make a move right then, they'd miss their chance.

Clint didn't hesitate swinging his bow into a ready position and shooting out a few of the windows so they could swing down into the building onto a upper walkway circling the top of the warehouse. Stealth wasn't really an option anymore. Bucky wasted no time taking out the guards that came at them. The warehouse wasn't meant to be a long time base. It had been specifically set up for this mission. Which meant that it was pretty much just a bunch of guys sitting around with a bunch of guns in a big, open room. The Hydra agents didn't have a lot of places to hide from the sudden attack, but that also meant that neither did Clint and Bucky.

Clint stayed on his six the whole time as they fought their way to the main floor, firing explosive arrows at a blinding speed and trying to create some chaos to cover them. Some of the Hydra agents were trying to get their supplies into the big trucks at the back of the warehouse. Others came straight at them with all the fire power they had.

Bucky allowed his mind to settle into this familiar space. Kill or be killed, he was used to. This was what he had spent the majority of his abnormally long life doing. His body acted on complete instinct and muscle memory. He didn't even have to think about what he was doing. That came stuttering to a halt when he heard a surprised grunt of pain from about twenty yards to his right. It didn't actually sound different than the noises being made by the Hydra agents Clint was methodically taking down. But somehow Bucky instinctively knew that it was.

He looked over in time to see a second bullet go through Clint's shoulder and then another disappear into his stomach through his combat gear. Bucky released a primal roar of anger and snapped the neck of the man he was fighting. He swung the now dead weight around in an arc and sent the body flying into the man who was approaching Clint for the kill as the archer fell to the ground. The force sent the man violently into the wall of the warehouse, his head banging harshly as he hit rendering him unconscious. Or maybe dead. Bucky really didn't give a fuck either way. One of his throwing knives lodged itself in the neck of another man getting too close to Clint as Bucky ran over and scooped the archer into his arms and dove behind a few large boxes.

Most of the Hydra agents that were left seemed more interested in getting the hell out of their rather than face an angry Winter Soldier and were quickly piling into their vehicles now that he was distracted. Clint was unconscious, but Bucky found a pulse and tried to stop the profuse bleeding as much as he could. He had to get out of here. He had to get Clint help.

Bucky made a run for the exit, hearing a few of the agents yelling behind him and shots being fired. One bullet pinged off his metal arm, but he didn't stop, bursting out into a dark alley with Clint still clutched tightly in his arms. He turned left and then right and then back, his eyes frantically searching for some clue as to which direction he should go. He had no idea where to find a hospital and he couldn't imagine the reaction if he just started yelling in the middle of the to street.

His eyes snagged on something when he looked up and he knew exactly where he needed to go. He took off running without a second thought. The wind whipped through his hair but he kept his eyes trained upwards. People yelled and cursed as he flew past. He paid them no mind. He had a single goal. One mission that was more important than any mission before.

He burst into the lobby of Stark Tower several blocks later, his legs and arms shaking from the strain. His cheeks streaked with tears he hadn't known he had been crying. Sinking to the ground without releasing the unconscious archer, he used the last of his strength to yell Steve's name. Then Romanoff. Then Stark. Then Wilson. Anyone who would listen.

The lobby guards had their guns trained on him but none made a move to approach. It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds but it felt like years before the elevator doors opened and all the people he'd yelled for ran out.

"Bucky?" Steve gasped as Wilson and Romanoff pointed even more guns at him. Stark's suit closed around his body and within second the repulsors were fixed on him as well.

"Help," Bucky choked out, trying to lift his arms and draw attention to the man he was holding. "Help him."

The Black Widow cursed violently in Russian, stowed her weapon, and then yelled as she approached him quickly, "we need Bruce!"

Next thing he knew, Clint was being pulled out of his arms and he became violently aware of the vulnerable situation he had put himself in. He debated making a run for it, but his body was drained and useless. The only people still looking at him were the lobby guards whose guns were still out and Steve whose fingers gripped onto his shield so tight that the knuckles were white.

Bucky raised his arms weakly in surrender.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah. What. I'm actually updating? This is very surprising.   
> I'm really sorry, guys. I'm trash. I really have no excuse for why I went on such a long hiatus. School and work have been running me ragged and I just kind of lost motivation. Hopefully this means I'll be updating regularly again. I just have to get my head back in the right space.   
> I really, really appreciate everyone who had read this story and left sweet, encouraging comments. Your support means so much to me, especially when I'm struggling with a story.   
> I'll try to get another update up soon.   
> Enjoy!

Clint woke up to harsh white lights and total silence. He blinked a few times. His eyes felt over sensitive. And now that he was thinking about it, his whole body felt sensitive. Every little twitch sent pain spiraling through him. He desperately tried to remember what happened. They had attacked the Hydra warehouse in New York. Bucky. Did Hydra capture them? He had to find Bucky. Clint forced away the grogginess and snapped his eyes open, forcing them to adjust to the light.

To his surprise, it wasn't a Hydra agent watching him. It was Natasha.

"Hey, big guy." Her hands and lips formed the words fluidly. He blinked a few more times, feeling comfortable knowing Nat was there which meant he hadn't been captured by Hydra. But he had no idea how he had gotten here. Last thing he remembered was Bucky pulling him behind some boxes in the warehouse. Bucky. Shit.

"Where is he?" Clint demanded. Nat's face remained blank, but her eyes flicked back towards the door. Clint turned his head and discovered Bruce and Steve standing there.

Steve looked exhausted. His hair was a mess and their were huge, dark circles under his eyes. His whole body was slumped like he could fall forward, totally asleep, at any moment. Steve said something, but he was too far away and Clint could tell by the way his mouth moved that he was mumbling, making it impossible for Clint to decipher the lip movement.

"My aids. I need my aids," Clint said, swiveling his gaze back to Natasha. His body seemed to tighten every second he didn't have an answer for what had happened. He needed to know what happened to Bucky. He needed to know if Bucky was okay.

Natasha pushed the hearing aids into his hand. It took a minute to get them in since his body hates him and his shoulder felt like it was on fire, but no one tried to help him. Which was good because he was not a helpless baby and just needed them to tell him what the hell happened. He didn't want to be coddled. They knew that about him by now.

When he was finally able to get the aids working, he turned back to Steve. He must have looked pissed because Steve took a wary step backwards. "What the hell happened?" Clint asked. "Where is Bucky?"

Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find some words, but it was Natasha who eventually answered. "He showed up in the lobby with you. You've took two bullets to your shoulder and three more to your torso."

"You're lucky none of them hit any major organs," Bruce said quietly, gesturing towards Clint's body with his glasses. "You're lucky to be alive."

"Where. Is. Bucky?" Clint asked through clenched teeth. He knew they were avoiding the question. He wasn't going to let them just talk around it. Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking more and more exhausted every second. Bruce just looked vaguely guilty and gave him an embarrassed little smile. Natasha crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. He knew what she was telling him.

"You've got him locked up, don't you?" Clint was struggling to keep his anger under control. His body was practically vibrating with unreleased tension. "He saved my goddamn life and you return the favor by locking him up. Probably in the hulk containment room, right? Goddamn it."

"He said it was his fault," Natasha said. Her voice to a normal person would've sounded completely uninterested. Clint could hear the curiosity laced with frustration under her calm tones. "What happened to you. He said it was his fault."

"Of course, he did! He thinks every bad thing that's ever happened in the whole world is his fault!" Clint was practically screaming now. He quickly explained the situation. How Hydra had been after Steve and they were trying to stop it. Natasha was pretty pissed that they hadn't come to the tower first, but he brushed it off by telling them that Hydra had been mobilizing and any delay would've made them too late. He left off the part about Bucky not wanting to see Steve. Even after his explanation, he was still fuming at the idea that they had treated Bucky so badly. His eyes traveled between the other three occupants of the room and landed on Steve. "What about you? You're supposed to be his best friend and you just let them lock him up? You didn't even try to stop them?"

Steve sputtered and shook his head. "I-I didn't....Bucky...he.."

"Leave him alone," Natasha spat angrily. The first open sign of emotion she had given since he woke up. "Barnes hasn't spoken a word to anyone since he got here except to ask if you were okay. We didn't have a choice. He nodded when we asked if he did this, if it was his fault. And that's the only information we've been able to get from him. What choice did we have?"

Clint's face was a mask of disgust as he watched the three of them. Steve and Bruce refused to meet his gaze, but Natasha crossed her arms defiantly.

"How long have I been out?" He finally asked.

"52 hours," Natasha replied.

"I want to see him. Bring him here." When the other three exchanged uneasy glances, he added in a desperate voice, "please. I need to see him."

Natasha's eyes widened slightly but then quickly settled back into her neutral expression as she nodded at Steve who turned on the spot and left the room. While they waited, Bruce ran some tests, checking him over and making sure he didn't have a concussion or anything else wrong with him. Clint insisted that he felt fine other than the pain which was primarily in his shoulder. He kept looking over towards the door. He thought the tension he felt would dissipate once he knew Bucky was at least okay, but it seemed to ratchet up even more as he waited.

But as soon as the door swung open revealing Steve and a familiar brunette head trailing along behind him, Clint's whole body relaxed. "Can you guys give us a few minutes?" He asked.

"Clint," Natasha said sharply.

"Nat," Clint cut whatever she was going to say just as sharply. He tore his gaze from Bucky and fixed it on Natasha, communicating everything she needed to know with his eyes. Finally, she sighed and nodded to Bruce and Steve. Bruce followed her out of the room willingly with Steve lagging behind, glancing between them worriedly.

"It's fine, Steve," Bucky said. Steve looked surprised but he nodded at his friend and left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Clint reached out his hand and said, "C'mere."

Bucky meandered towards him slowly with slumped shoulders, not really meeting his eyes. The assassin was wearing some generic sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt with an Avengers logo on it. Leave it to Tony to capitalize on the team, Clint thought with a mixture of embarrassment, annoyance, and affection.

When Bucky got close enough, Clint took his hand and squeezed it gently. "How you doin', Buck?"

The other man just shrugged as his eyes swept over Clint's body, trying to figure what kind of damage had been done. Clint pulled on his hand, forcing him closer to the bed.

"Sit down," Clint said and patted the bed. Bucky hesitated, but finally sat, squeezing Clint's hand tighter then resting them on his lap.

"How are you? Are you in pain?" He asked Clint once he was settled.

"Yes," Clint responded honestly, but didn't let Bucky dwell on it. "Why did you tell them it was your fault, Buck?"

Bucky's face screwed up in frustration and disgust. He deliberately avoided Clint's gaze, choosing to stare at their intertwined fingers instead. "Because it was. I made you go there."

"Don't be stupid." Clint scoffed. "1. I can take care of myself, 2. I chose to go with you, and 3. You saved my life. I'd be dead in a warehouse if it weren't for you."

"If I hadn't been so goddamn stubborn..." Bucky started, but Clint cut him off.

"We both did what we had to do. And you're never going to be able to convince me otherwise so just stop."

Bucky pursed his lips. He clearly wanted to argue some more but Clint wasn't interested. Bucky needed to get it through his head that he was a good guy, no matter what had happened in the past.

"Can't we just kiss and make up?" Clint said with a playful smile settling over his lips. Bucky rolled his eyes, but finally looked at him. Affection colored his eyes as he leaned in and brushed their lips together lightly. When Clint tried to pull him into a deeper kiss, Bucky pulled away and shook his head.

"You're injured," he said reproachfully. "You need to rest."

Clint pouted at him, but lay back on the bed with a sigh. Almost immediately, his eyes started to droop.

"Stay with me," he said quickly as consciousness slowly escaped from him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to end the story here. The inspiration that I had when I started it has long since deserted me. One day maybe I will pick it back up again and make it into the saga I had planned it to be. But for now this is it. And I'm actually pretty happy with it. Thanks to all those who have stuck with this story.  
> Enjoy!

When Clint showed signs of waking again, Bucky just wrapped his arms tighter around the man. After Clint had asked him to stay, he had slipped into the small space left on the bed and pulled the archer carefully against him. To his surprise, no one had bothered them the whole night. Clint slept soundly, and Bucky felt his anxiety slowly start to ebb away. Not all the way. There was still plenty to be worried about. He couldn't help but think that all of this--the peace and safety he felt, the sense of calm that only came when he was with Clint--could, and most likely would, be taken away from him so easily. 

No one here trusted him except for Clint. Not even Steve, really. Though he would probably protest that until he was blue in the face. But Bucky knew the truth. He would have to prove to everyone that he was trustworthy. And he would do his damnedest to do it if it meant getting to stay with Clint. 

The man in his arms mumbled sleepily, half-awake, and pushed back further into the warmth of Bucky's chest. The room was steadily getting brighter with the rising sun, and Bucky was entranced by the changing colors though the open window. It had been a long time since he'd gotten a chance to appreciate this. 

Clint yawned, shifted again, flinched, then said, "good morning," as his eyes blinked open against the brightness. 

He was perfect. God, he was perfect and Bucky couldn't believe that after ninety years he had been able to find someone so perfect. His only reply was to nuzzle his face into Clint's hair. He didn't want the world to be waking up. He didn't want to let go of Clint. He didn't want this to end because he had no idea what was coming for them on the other side of this sunrise. 

"You stayed." Clint turned his head and smiled at Bucky. 

"'Course I did," Bucky rasped, surprised at how rough his voice was and unsure whether it was from tiredness or emotion. His whole body felt like one big, coiled up ball of emotion. It was a strange feeling. 

"What time is it?" Clint asked.

"Almost o-seven hundred."

"Nat let us sleep in." Clint tried to stretch, but ended up wincing in pain again. Bucky hated that he was in so much pain. A fresh wave of guilt rolled over him. It was his fault. He should let them lock him up again. "She'll be by pretty soon. I give her half an hour, tops--oh don't look at me like that, Barnes."

Bucky blinked in surprise. "Like what?"

"With that guilty look." Clint shook his head in exasperation. "None of this is your fucking fault and I know that's what you were thinking so just stop it, okay?"

Bucky opened his mouth only to close it again, unsure of what to say. It was his fault, and he seriously doubted that Clint would ever be able to convince him otherwise. But he didn't want to get Clint worked up either. He needed to rest, heal. So finally he just nodded. He would do his best to not let his guilt show anymore at the very least. 

"Good," Clint said, though they both knew the subject would come up again eventually. "Can you just kiss me now?"

Injured Clint was very demanding. But, then again, not injured Clint was pretty demanding too. Bucky momentarily forgot his resolve to not get Clint riled up and decided to be a little shit just for fun. 

"I don't know. You have terrible morning breath."

"I swear to God, Bar--" Bucky cut him off by pressing their lips together in a hungry kiss. Just a fraction of what he would really like to be doing but he knew Clint wasn't healthy enough for. 

After a minute, a voice sounded from the doorway, "okay, separate and put your tongues away, please. We're coming in."

It was Natasha. He'd been so involved in the kiss that he hadn't even heard the door creak open. His cheeks turned tomato red and he pulled himself out of the bed completely before she could open the door even more to the hallway outside. Clint just reclined back in the bed with a shit eating grin on his face and sent Bucky a wink. 

Natasha walked all the way in then followed by Steve, Sam, Bruce, and Tony. Bruce started checking Clint over to make sure everything was still healing well. Natasha, Sam, and Tony were all smirking at him which did nothing to help the blush on his cheeks fade. Steve just looked confused. Like he had so many feelings swirling around inside of him that he didn't know what to do. Bucky felt bad. He'd been kind of shitty to Steve since he got here. It wasn't that he had said any particularly shitty things; it was more the fact that he hadn't said anything at all. 

"So," Sam said, clapping his hands in front of him. "What happens now?"

"I think that's up to Mr. Roboto over here," Tony quipped. 

Bucky blinked in surprise. What was up to him? This was the part where they interrogated him, wasn't it?

"You staying or what?" Natasha asked after a moment. 

Bucky's chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. He couldn't breathe. His eyes swung around the room. From Natasha to Tony to Sam to Steve who gave him a tentative smile. Bruce's smile was more open. Bucky got the distinct impression that Bruce knew exactly how he was feeling. Then his eyes landed on Clint whose eyes said everything Bucky needed to know. 

"I can stay?" He choked out, looking back at the four across the room from him. 

"Of course you can stay, Buck," Steve spoke for the first time. His blue eyes wide and sincere. He was leaning forward slightly as if he wanted to launch himself at Bucky. "B-but you don't have to."

Bucky took a few deep breaths, trying to process the information. They were giving him a choice. He could go back to his mission and keep taking out Hydra bases or he could stay. Stay with Clint. Stay with Steve. Have a team again. Is that what he wanted? Is that what they wanted? Or were they just offering because they felt like they had to? What were they getting out of letting him stay?

He felt a calloused hand close around his and shifted his eyes to Clint. Every bad, cynical thought that had been making its way into his head shattered as a warm feeling spread through his chest again. He knew where he wanted to be. And Clint wanted him to be there. That much he knew for sure. And so did Steve even if he had a lot on his mind at the moment. 

That was enough for him. 

"Yeah, I'm stayin'."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos really brighten my day! Thanks for reading!


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